The tiny border city makes me sad,
Where I once stayed and things were very bad.
The ice and snow would cut into the skin
And chilly winds would often have set in.
Since not a soul is seen for miles around,
Where on earth are woodsmen to be found?
When I watch the beacon tower from the wall,
I see the army banners large and small.
Never knowing if they might return,
The soldiers leave their homes with deep concern.
So many soldiers become prisoners of war
That like floods their tears will pour and pour.
As happy lands are everywhere on earth,
Why abide in land that knows no mirth?
The natives hardened by a life severe
Do not care if they ever leave here.